


Seeking Approval

by 100dabbo



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Butt Slapping, Cheating, Dinner, Established Relationship, Extramarital Affairs, M/M, Praise Kink, Rimming, Season/Series 05, Secret Relationship, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25452643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/pseuds/100dabbo
Summary: When the rare opportunity arises for Pete to come over to Don's apartment, they take it without second thought.
Relationships: Pete Campbell/Don Draper
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	Seeking Approval

**Author's Note:**

> When I first started watching Mad Men, I instantly saw Pete and Don's relationship and said "Yep, that'll be a pairing with soooo many fics, can't wait to read them all", only for me to then find out it's a rarepair 😐 I wrote this fic because I love these two, and no matter what people say, I love Pete!!! (although I still have two more seasons to watch...) I hope you enjoy what I've done, there'll be a part two coming soon ♥

It was a Saturday afternoon that Don picked up the phone to dial in Peter’s number.

He used the number for his city apartment, recalling what he’d mentioned to him earlier in the week about his now _indefinite stay in the city_ , and he poured himself a drink as it rang out, reclining on the couch, tilting the glass in his hand to watch the ice dance on the surface and clink against the sides.

Don heard the receiver click, and Pete spoke down the line with haste,

“Hello?” The man answered with, his voice ever professional when he thought he was speaking to strangers.

“Megan’s at the studio this afternoon. I want you here in half an hour.”

Needless to say, Pete’s shock to Don’s straightforward attitude never could be dulled over time, and as ever, he was naturally quite flustered,

“Uh, Don, what a- what a surprise for you to call, it’s a Saturday—”

“I know it’s a Saturday, that’s why I’m calling. We don’t have work and it’s not like you have your wife to breathe down your neck to say you can’t come.”

“Well, that because she kicked me ou—”

“So then come over.”

Pete hesitated for a moment, taking a deep swallow to process what he was being instructed to do. 

He’d been to Don’s apartment many times, sat right across the dinner table from his wife under the same roof he’d been fucked under from the couch to the bedroom; claimed by Mr Draper in every way conceivable. Therefore, he couldn’t help thinking about the prospect of Mrs Draper’s return that evening, and the subsequent risk of being caught alone with him in the apartment. He ran his fingers through his hair and countered,

“Why don’t you come to mine?”

“Because your place is a shithole.” Don deadpanned, smirking on his end of the line as he reintroduced the rim of his whiskey glass to his lips, letting the smooth whiskey slide down his throat.

“But- But you said my place was lovely the last time you were here!”

“I also said you were a good boy, Pete…” Don reasoned, using that low tone in his voice that always got Pete to do anything he was told, “You don’t want to make that a lie too, now, do you?”

It never took much to make Pete’s dick twitch when it was Don speaking to him, and so unsurprisingly, he felt it jolt, confined in his underwear. He stammered at Don’s words, filling the air with all sorts of disfluencies before replying,

“I’ll get my things- But first, Don, you need to tell me: has she already gone, or should I expect her to be there when I arrive?”

“Yes, Pete, she’s right on the couch next to me listening to me talk to you.” His sarcastic bouts were never to be limited whenever he answered Pete’s idiotic questions, “Get here in half an hour.”

And Don put the receiver back down, leaving Pete with a line of static held to his ear. He shivered at the forthright instruction, gingerly placing the handpiece back onto the dock to lay his palms flat on thighs to think about it.

Don’s place was no where near thirty minutes away, it was more like five, and even then, if he got a cab, he could surely shave it down to about two. So then, ‘thirty minutes’ must have implied that he expected Pete to take his time in doing _something_ before arrival. And Pete knew exactly what that was.

He stood from his couch and walked with purpose to the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt to strip it from his limbs, throwing it on his bed as he entered his en-suite. His heart began to pound with excitement as the scene played out in his head, how Don would greet him at the door with a soft kiss on his cheek, brush his mouth against his own and get a feel of the stubble that he’d neglected to shave in the morning, have his hands gently hold onto face and cup it with their palms as the two of them embraced…

His eyes fell on the pack of razors laying by the sink as he tugged off his belt and let his trousers fall to his ankles. Stepping out of them, he took one in hand and walked into the shower.

Twenty minutes later, Pete was in the lobby of Don’s apartment building, avoiding suspicion by acting like any normal man would; keeping his hands in his pockets and his head held high as he made his way to the elevators.

He gave a short nod to the doorman by the desk and stepped into one of the elevators, pressing the button for the seventeenth floor. The doors closed him in, and he began to move up, and in solitude, he could take his hands out of his coat pocket to shake his wrists, expel some of the pent-up elation this little call-out had caused. 

The elevator would take him up, he’d walk to apartment 17b, and his colleague would fuck him till both of their pleasures were met with. 

He swallowed again, keeping the nervousness at bay with the bite of his lip and the short exhales of breath, tapping his feet on the floor. He was glad he was alone in there; heaven knew what a stranger would think of him acting like that for no apparent reason, not knowing that he was fuelled by pure excitement for what he was about to receive. It was all okay, because no one else was in there with him, and he could just ride all the way up to the penthouse floor without disturbance.

That is he could until the elevator began to slow, stopping at floor ten, opening the doors to a man waiting on the other side. While Pete widened his eyes, his anxiety gradually stepping, and the other man smiled, giving him an amicable smile before pressing the button for floor twelve.

He moved across to stand right next to him, looking upwards at seemingly nothing while beginning a bit of small talk,

“Floor seventeen, eh?”

Pete refrained from rolling his eyes at such a pathetic attempt at conversation (as if he could do any better), because really, what was he supposed to say to that? Was he going to say no? Still, he was always taught to be friendly, so said,

“Yes, um, seeing a friend- my boss- for a bit of lunch…” 

He winced at himself the second the words left his lips, forgetting that Don hadn’t been his superior for a while now. Even though he still had some authority over him, Pete was only a junior partner after all, the two of them were more akin to equals than they were a few years ago.

“Ah, I know those types of lunches,” ‘ _No, no you really don’t_ ’ Pete thought, clenching his fist. “You keep your head down, you say yes to everything they say and on Monday morning you make it all happen.”

The elevator dinged for floor twelve and the man stepped out, tipping the brim of his hat to him as he left.

“Jesus Christ.” Pete breathed, leaning his back against the wall as it started the ascent once more.

Eventually, the penthouse floor was reached, and he walked with and eager gait towards Don’s door, behind which he was surely waiting for him. He raised his hand, ready to knock, but hesitated the moment before he was about to signify his arrival.

Don told him thirty minutes and he was there in twenty. Would he care that he was early? Would he be pissed off if he saw him far too eager and needy, or would it delight him and make him happier?

He was thinking far too much about it and he knew that, so he shook his head, raised his hand once more and finally rapped his knuckle against the wood.

Don opened the door to him not ten seconds later, the side of his lip curling up into a contended smirk as he saw those blue eyes staring up at him.

“I’m early, Don, I—”

Pete was cut off from his apology as the other man’s arm grabbed onto his waist, pulling him past the threshold to press a kiss against his lips, crowding into him to shut the door behind him with a push of his free arm, effectively pining him against it.

When Don’s knee landed itself between his shaking thighs, pushing up to brush against his cock, he gasped, pulling his mouth away.

“I don’t care if you’re early, Pete, I care that you’re here.” Don purred against his cheek, his palm coming down from the door and onto the side of Pete’s neck, brining him close enough to nose his hair, “I’ve been thinking about you since I woke up this morning and I’m really not prepared to wait another second.”

His wet lips pressed back onto him, peppering his jaw with kisses to make Pete’s breath hitch and his hands grasp to the strong forearms holding him in position, hips bucking against the thigh between his legs in desperation.

“Fuck me, Don…” Pete breathed, his whisper mere ghosts of what words ought to be. But the other man heard it plain enough, as he had done many times by many people across his years, and he understood that it was an imperative not to skip out on.

He pulled his mouth away, still hugging tight to Campbell’s waist,

“Go to the bedroom, I want to see you on the bed in a minute, do you understand me?”

Pete nodded, slipping himself out of Don’s grip to take himself to the room he’d been in so many times, the feeling of glee never dampened by the frequency of his visits, and as he hurried along, Don watched each step he made until he reached the door to slip into the master bedroom as if it were his own.

When the door clicked shut, allowing Pete a head start on undressing himself, Don unfastened the top buttons of his polo shirt, quickly pouring himself a fresh drink in the glass he had emptied only twenty minutes ago, and downed it in one.

It wasn’t just for show either, because he really had been thinking about Peter all morning, how his eagerness to impress him would be the fuel to get him going, and so when Megan had announced that she’d be spending over three hours at the studio that day, he couldn’t wait to have him over.

He waited another second before he began to walk to the bedroom, giving Pete just enough time to prepare for his arrival, and he got the door, slipping his fingertips against the steel doorknob before he twisted it to step himself in.

Pete was perched on the edge of the bed, just about undressed with his torso bare, and his legs too, the only pieces remaining on him being his underwear, socks, and their garters, fastened tightly to his slim calves. Why he would wear those on a weekend, Don had no idea, but he loved them, nonetheless.

The young man looked up the second he saw Don’s silhouette standing in the doorframe, and he smiled with his lip pinched between his teeth, reaching down to unclip the fastenings.

“Leave them on.” Don commanded, shutting the door behind him to approach the bed with a gait of predatory slowness.

Pete obeyed, of course, and put his hands behind his back, waiting for Don to stand right in front of him and give him the next instruction. He saw as the older man’s eyes landed on his smooth chest, his lips quirking up with yet another smirk to see his rosy nipples which had already become hard nubs.

Don reached forward once he was stood right before him, gently grasping onto Pete’s wrists to pull his hands forward, controlling where they went, to land them on his belt.

That instruction was clear enough, and Pete just looked up with his wide, blue eyes at Don’s face while his well-trained hands got to work on unlooping that belt, pulling down the zipper and feel at the semi he had tucked away beneath his underwear.

“Can I take it out, Mr Draper?” He asked, using the same timid voice he might use in the workplace, begging for something he wanted.

“Only if you put your mouth on it.” Don replied, his condition _certainly_ not one Pete would ever be adverse to in a million years.

So, Pete pulled down the elastic of the underwear’s waistband with one hand, using his other to pull out Don’s considerable length, holding it in his palm. His lips parted instinctually, his mouth salivating at the sight, and as Don’s hand was brought up rest on the back of his neck, he moved himself towards it, angling his head down to ever so gently press his lips onto the side of his shaft, giving a slight suck before he began his work.

His tongue slipped out, running along the base as he made his ascent towards to the head, letting it breech past his rosy lips to enter his mouth, where he began to bob his head with short, little movements.

He didn’t get it down far, he never could usually, but Don was hardly in the headspace to complain. Betty never did it for him and with Megan it was a rarity, withheld for only special occasions, but with Pete, every time was a guarantee to receive it; to feel the pressure of wet and warm hollowed cheeks around a good few inches of himself while a hand stroked to compensate for what couldn’t be taken down.

When he hummed around him, swirled the tip of his tongue around the head and darted it across the slit, it was difficult not to become fully hard, to poke into Pete’s cheek and submerge himself into the pools of salvia that would collect in the back of his throat with a short buck of his hips.

He groaned with pleasure to affirm Pete in everything he did, knowing the praise was all too good for his self-esteem and efforts, so good that he looked up to see Don’s face, his bright, blue eyes wide and longing for even more.

Don knew those eyes and what they were saying when they looked at him in that way; wide pupils and an intense stare that anyone could interpret as a man in deep lust.

With his hand still gently guiding Pete’s mouth, after a few more passes of his lips up and down his shaft, he pulled him away for his unhinged jaw to fall open, empty save for his pink tongue that swiped across those white pearls, smiling at him with joy.

“Lay back on the pillows, there.” Was what Don said next, Peter following as quickly as he could, shifting himself backwards to rest his head amongst the cushions against the headboard.

He watched with near unblinking eyes as Don began to strip, pulling his shirt over his head and kicking the trousers from his legs, following with the underwear to get himself fully naked. The man crawled up to him, hands bracing on his ankles. “Spread your legs for me.”

He parted his knees in accordance with Don’s wishes, his underwear still straining the cock that had been throbbing since the moment he had him in his mouth, and unable to keep in his sighs, his breath shook, nearing a whimper while Don started tracing his hands up his shins, past his knee and down the smoothness of his inner thighs until they found themselves at his groin, giving his bulge a pleasant pass before tucking his fingertips beneath the waistband.

He pulled them down, stripping them off of his legs to let him be free. The first thing Draper did was hold onto his length, toying with it in his palm to tease him just a little, nearing him to a beg. He wiggled it in his grip, tapping the head against his stomach while a contented grin stretched his lips wide.

“Don…” He panted, his hip bucking into his hand without control, simultaneously loving and hating the taunts of Don’s methods in love making.

He always liked to make it clear he was in control, much like any other occasion in the real world; whether it was boardrooms, or bars, or even his own office, because when Mr Draper was holding the floor, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to keep it.

“If you don’t ask for it, you don’t get it, Campbell. Say it.” He said, pressing his thumb along the base towards the head in one, hard stroke.

Peter tensed his legs, still not deigning to writhe in his grip just yet, and panted,

“Please, use your mouth, Mr Draper!” 

Don obliged, settling between the other man’s thighs to crane his neck below his cock, lifting his balls to find access to that tight, pink rim.

He didn’t take a second to pause and stare before extending his tongue, laying it flat to start lapping and bring his lips closer to suck, his saliva coating every inch of him that could give him pleasure.

Pete cursed as it was pushed inside of him, throwing his head back into the pillows, one hand fisting and clawing at the sheets with desperation for even more while the other gently smoothed itself through Don’s perfect hair, fingers tracing against his scalp.

Don’s hand then resumed its ever-teasing strokes at that point, and Peter finally let out a whimper, relishing in every single swipe of that swirling tongue, the light scratches his five o’clock shadow made on the sensitive skin and the way his nose buried itself into his crotch to get that depth.

He barely pulled away while he hummed with his own joy, remarking with a mumble,

“God, Pete, you’re so smooth for me…” He let the deep tone vibrate against him, the scratches of his lips just divine, “Does your wife even know what a real man’s supposed to look like?”

Peter couldn’t help but moan at the blatant emasculation, supporting the statement through a groan,

“It’s for you, Mr Draper, _it’s all for you!_ ” 

Don extended his tongue flat once more, using it to lick all the way up from his taint to the very slit of his dick, causing a shiver to pass across the whole of Pete’s body, goose bumps dimpling the flesh on his pale arms and legs.

He kneeled up to look down on him; the bright flush that had bloomed across his cheeks, neck and chest, the hard dick resting at his hip, the desperate eyes that stared back at him. 

And, while he loved to look into them, those little oceans of his own, he still made the decision to grab his hands onto his waist and flip him over, pulling him up onto his hands and knees, spreading his legs out a little to poise him exactly how he was wanted; on display just for Mr Draper.

Without warning, and before Pete could even get a word out, he rubbed the tip of his middle finger against his spit-slicked hole and sank it all the way in, earning a pleasant groan, his immediate reflex to clench around it, making himself taught while Don began pushing it in and out.

Then, churning his tongue to get a decent amount of salvia worked up his mouth, Don spat on him, still working that finger with a nice rhythm until he was ready for a second, introducing that without alert as well, and yet another lovely noise was expelled with his laboured breaths.

“Keep up those sounds, Pete. Don’t let me forget how much you’re enjoying this.”

He moaned a little louder for him, pricking his ears to hear the quiet, yet distinct noises of the other man begging to stroke himself. He won himself a deeper press with that, those digits inside rewarding him for his obedience with a curl around his insides that successfully located his sweet spot. It made Pete mewl, almost effeminately, but that too got him a little tidbit of praise,

“That’s my good boy…” Don said, grinning and groaning from his own gratification.

Pete thought he would come on the spot from just that, but he held on, enduring the bliss, the thick tips of those fingers refusing to relent at all as they pressed into his prostate hard enough to make him cry out,

“ _Oh, fuck me, Don!_ ”

“That’s _Mr Draper_ to you!” Don corrected, taking his hand away from himself to land a harsh smack across his cheek, Peter immediately rectifying himself with another cry at the sting of pain,

“Of course, Mr Draper, please, _please_ fuck me!”

Slowly, he pulled his fingers out, offering one last circle over the rim with his thumb before taking himself back in hand. He stared at his twitching hole, glistening with his own spittle, just yearning for something to be back inside of him. 

After giving himself a few more jerks, he eventually slapped himself against it, smoothing his cock between those cheeks for more and more cruel teasing, knowing fine well Pete was going crazy, and probably had been since the second his own cock had been touched.

It was still erect and hanging, pointing down from the prostrated position he was in. His eyes were closed shut, trying to ignore the pre-come beading at his slit, slowly dripping in a string onto Don’s sheets. God, was that hot to look at, Draper peering over just to get a glimpse of it.

He’d touch him eventually, reach around while he was fucking him to stroke him through his orgasm, but for now, just while he was getting himself prepared, he thought best to leave him untouched, waiting for him to earn it.

So, he pressed the thick tip of his cock onto Campbell’s hole, readier than ever, pushing himself in with a deep sigh of relief, gripped by that heat in such a divine way.

“You’re so tight, fuck…” He breathed, his hands already digging into his fleshy middle with a harsh clutch, keeping him right where he wanted him, “I’m gonna use this good little hole of yours, Campbell, and you’re gonna fucking thank me for it.”

Pete grasped onto the sheets once more, stabilising himself as he was thrusted into, a rhythm picking up behind him that jolted his body forward with each forceful drive, Don sinking himself in his whole entirety within him, easily drawing back just to slam inside once more.

“Thank you, Mr Draper! Thank you, it feels so good!” He wailed, sucking on his bottom lip to bear himself through the ecstasy, Don pushing forth with a sharp thrust that planted him right at the hilt. His body leaned right over Pete’s back, his mouth right beside his ear.

“You like it, hm? My big cock filling you up?” He goaded, barely moving an inch, staying as stationary as possible.

“Yes!” He clenched around him again, gritting his teeth, “Of course!”

Don slowly leaned himself back up, hands smoothing over his back. 

And, just when Pete thought he was going to pick the pace back up, just using that pause for a little reflection, that same, low-toned, commandeering voice, said,

“Then fuck yourself.”

Pete moaned, but didn’t protest, rocking his hips forward to draw him out, then back again to push him in, and the pleasure from that alone, the degradation and the humiliation of being desperate enough to do so, to _admit_ to him that he liked it, made his cock twitch again.

“Oh, you’re such a good boy,” Don told him, letting his eyes flutter shut as he did all the work, “Always do what you’re told, don’t you?”

Being equally desperate for Don’s approval _and_ his cock made their arrangement all the more perfect; the mere fact that he would barely have to admit any effort to be praised, to be appreciated, would send his blood going directly south at any given time, whether it was a veiled comment in the workplace with a sly wink or an explicit statement in the bedroom as the two of them experienced each other’s pleasure, Pete would always get gratification from the knowledge Donald Draper found him amazing.

He dropped his head, hanging it off his shoulders, continuing to push his body back to prove his love for that magnificent member inside of him, and he groaned again while he pushed his curve flush with Don’s body, his thighs already aching with the exertion of it all.

But, no matter how beautiful it was to watch those hips go back and forth, Don was growing slightly impatient with the slowness of the pace, so he quickly re-tensed his hands on that waist and fucked into him with a sudden, sharp drive that had Pete moaning loudly again,

“Mr Draper!” He cried, his toes curling, the tip of Don’s cock effortlessly meeting with his prostate.

“I’m gonna finish inside you, Campbell,” Don told him, rutting into him with a divine pace, “You feel so much better than my wife…”

“Do I?!” He desperately breathed, scarcely holding onto himself the way that tone spoke to him, the way it made him feel special and worth something.

“Oh, yeah,” Don said, “Because you’re my good boy, aren’t you Pete?”

Pete nodded with lazy swings of his head, ready for Don’s seed to fill him up like he’d wanted from the second it was inside of him, but what he got sooner was even more of a pleasure to receive.

Don’s hand reached around his hip, forcing him to lean down once more which gave him the opportunity to land kisses on his shoulders as his wrist jerked Pete into his smooth palm,

“Then you’ll come for me, won’t you?” He asked, mouth pressed against his skin, his fist applying pressure to the head, “You’ll come all over the sheets that my wife and I sleep in at night because I told you to, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mr Draper!” Pete yelped, feeling the divinity of his climax approach him, the thrusts of Don’s hips still driving that cock in and out with wonderous pleasure, and within the next few moments, he came, his body twitching in Don’s grip, dick getting stroked all the way through his orgasm until he was completely spent.

“Good boy, Pete, you did fantastic…” Don praised, bringing his hand away.

Pete collapsed on the pillows at that, his face laying right amongst their softness while his hips remained bent up, Don working closer to his own finish. 

He spent himself inside not long later, just as he said he would, and he held onto Campbell tightly to him to keep him still, ensuring he was pressed right against him as he let himself go, panting though it all with breathless praises of how good he felt to be inside.

He stayed within him as the pleasure washed over his body, only pulling out after a minute of waiting, where upon he fell onto the mattress and pulled Pete down with him into a warm embrace. He wrapped his arms around his middle and pressed his lips to his shoulder while his hands smoothed over his chest.

“I’m so glad you came, Pete.” He said to him, his eyes closing in the warmth of the buzzing afterglow.

“I don’t know how I could not, that’s probably the best fuck we’ve ever had…” He said, misinterpreting the comment as its sexual innuendo. Don only laughed at him,

“I meant to the penthouse, but sure, I guess you’re right…” And he raised his hand up to Peter’s cheek, knowing he’d be needlessly embarrassed and have his face fill with heat. “You want a drink?”

“My goodness, I hadn’t even realised how dry my mouth was until now. Sure.”

Don slipped off of the bed and pulled his clothes back on, looking with a wholesome smile at Pete in the sheets with the afternoon sun streaming through the bedroom window that fell across his body with its golden light, the man’s his eyes closed with comfort.

“Did you think I was gonna bring it to you?” Don asked with a chuckle, throwing Pete’s own clothes at him, “You clean up, I’ll be in there.”

After ten minutes, the two of them were back in their clothes, reclined on the sofa and clinking their glasses together to take a much-needed gulp of whiskey, the cool drinks slipping down their throats smoothly.

“When’s she back?” Pete asked, resting his head back on the cushions.

Don checked his wristwatch and smiled,

“Not for another hour or so…” He said, gazing into those blue eyes, “We could do anything in the world for _all_ that time…”

“Well, you’re the ideas man, Don, I’m sure you can come up with something…” Peter replied, raising his eyebrows and giving him a small bite of his lip.

And, although he was prone to teasing, Don really did seem ready for round two, slipping his free hand back down Pete’s thigh, on its way to palm at his soft length again, but just as he did and the other man relaxed into his grip, the door of the apartment opened.

Don’s head whipped around as he untangled his limbs from Pete, sitting up straight to peer around the corner to see Megan, shaking the coat from her arms.

She looked frustrated, that much was evident from the hurried way she kicked the shoes from her feet and tossed the coat onto the floor, and both men could see it, standing from the couch to avoid any suspicion on their behalf.

She turned around, huffing, and looked up to see Pete before her own husband.

“Pete, uh, came round for some lunch, uh… You’re back early…” Don said, filling the silent air with one lie that only the two men held between them and one fact everyone in the room already knew. 

He could tell she wanted to snap at him, vent about her day in some sort of way, but with guests in her house, she could never be impolite. The two men sat back down on the sofa and she looked at Pete with a smile that he could tell was fake.

“Are you staying for dinner?” Was all she asked, tensing her hands by her sides.

“I- Um, Don—” He began, but Don saved him by cutting in,

“His wife kicked him out of the house a few weeks ago, he’s not having the best time.” And his hand landed on Pete’s knee, tapping it gently as an amicable gesture which make Pete blush all the same, considering the intentions of that hand the last time it had been laid upon him.

“But what I want to know is if I’m cooking him dinner.” She deadpanned, looking at her husband without the faux grin.

“Thanks for having me, Don, really, I appreciate it, but I think I’ll head hom—”

“No, you’ll stay,” Don said, ignoring how indecent the whole affair was to fuck him in one room and have his wife dine him in the next. “You need a well-cooked meal, not that frozen garbage you eat at your place.”

Pete said nothing as Megan sighed, clearly displeased, and walked into the kitchen.

“Are you crazy?!” Pete hissed once his wife was out of ear-shot, “I can just go home, I don’t care that _my_ wife hates me, but I sure will if yours starts to as well!”

“I’m gonna look over the table at you while we eat and I’ll think about everything we just did in there, enjoying every single second of it because it’s why I invited you here. Now, sit at the table with me.” Don whispered, his charismatic grin something that Pete could never refuse. He didn’t need a ‘good boy’ to encourage him this time.

So, they both seated themselves at the table while Mrs Draper served up the food, taking her place beside her husband once it’d all been dished out. 

The three of them sat in silence as they ate; Megan busy brooding over whatever she was angry about, Don’s mind swimming with the thoughts of the man right next to him, and Campbell being too choked up with anxiety to let a word slip out of his mouth, lest it pertain to their activities just an hour prior.

They all finished soon, eager to get it over with, and Pete lifted the napkin from his lap and placed it on the table as he stood,

“Thank you, Mrs Draper for a wonderful meal, I’ll be sure to come again!” He commended, Megan nodded and picking up the plates with a reluctant ‘of course’. 

“Like me to walk you out?” Don asked, already knowing he’d never receive a ‘no’. 

As expected, Pete nodded and picked up his coat from the couch, Don leading him to the door. He opened it up and whispered, “Monday morning, my office, you come in early so that you’re there before I arrive. I want you over the desk, so maybe don’t strain your back over the weekend.”

And he glanced behind his shoulder, watching his wife walk into the kitchen and out of sight for him to plant a small kiss on Pete’s lips, pulling back with a smile.

“Of course, Mr Draper, I won’t forget.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) Check me out on [Tumblr](https://100dabbo.tumblr.com/)!


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